Growing Brave
by Grey G
Summary: This is Part 2 of the 'Familiar Stranger' thing I finished a few weeks ago.
1. Sandals and Cheeseburgers

Dean is standing by the window, arms straight out and holding onto the frame. It's cold now, the summer that had passed turning quickly into a freezing autumn. The trees have gone auburn, gold and bright yellow, a warm pallet that is deceptive to those who don't know the South Dakota winters. But Dean does, so he just looks outside, admiring the world from a distance. Until, that is, he hears another crash and he turns his head.

For some bizarre reason, Sam has taken to beating the shit out of anything that annoys him, be that the wall, the stove and even Dean a few times. He sighs and moves toward the kitchen and looks at the table that now has a split in it's wood. Sam looks up apologetically and doesn't say a word when he picks up his food and goes upstairs with it.

Sam's also decided that the outside can go fuck itself. He hadn't even realised the trees were a different colour until a few days ago as he spends all his time cooped up in his room reading constantly. He's trudged through what must be hundreds of books in the past few weeks and Dean can do nothing to stop him seeing as Bobby has an endless supply of the things.

Then there's Castiel.

He doesn't really know when he started staring at the angel, but he does all the time now. He can't help look all along the angel's body, notice the way he moves. Even his plodding has a certain grace to it that sends a small warmth down to his gut.

Castiel has finally had the great idea of wanting better clothes. Dean let him borrow a pair of his jeans and a t-shirt that was hilariously too big for him. They drove down to the shops and spent forever picking out clothes and shoes that Castiel was comfortable in. The ended up buying a few pairs of jeans, because apparently Castiel felt awkward in everything else, some plain tops and about five button downs. They were mostly checkered, but Castiel seemed to like this one that was cream in colour and matched perfectly with his trench coat.

They got him a parka, but they didn't even bother talking about a jacket or something like that, seeing as the one Dean will always associate with Castiel is still in perfect working order. It's been cleaned thoroughly by Castiel, the dirt and faint smears of blood and murky water trickling off. Dean had watched as he did so, seeing his hands working when he knew that the angel just had to blink and the thing would be spotless.

But Castiel wanted to spend time on it and he did, taking a while to scrub away all the dirt under the watchful eyes of Dean. Every now and then, Dean would get up and clear out the dirty water, fill it up again and bring it back, Castiel just nodding each time he did.

After it had been cleaned, Castiel put the coat out back and hung it on a wire.

_"If it doesn't dry within the day, I don't think it's meant for me." Castiel says solemnly before turning back to the house, Dean close behind. _

_ "It will, Cas." Dean promised._

_ It was dry in an hour._

Dean inhales deeply from the memory and set about doing some house chores. He sweeps the floor and they already look better without the crumbs and dust on them. Hearing footsteps, Dean turns his head and sees his brothers long form walk towards him, holding out a hand.

"Here, I'll do it." Sam sighs out and Dean has to try not to grin himself silly when he gives it. Sam looks down and starts brushing the floor clean. He looks a hell of a lot paler and thiner than Dean remembers and then the smile vanishes by itself, leaving Dean with an aching chest.

"Are you feeling alright?" Dean asks slowly. Sam looks up briefly and ignores the question. _Oh_. Dean thinks. He coughs slightly and pats Sam's back as he walks to the kitchen.

And there he is, all silent and thin. His hair is messy in a way that shows he's just woken from meditation, the angel's version of sleep. He's sitting quietly at the table, sipping a cup of something that Dean knows isn't coffee. He's even got his knees drawn up to his chest, his legs covered in a thick pair of jeans, a grey top on his torso.

"Hey, Cas." Dean says and his voice cracks a little because he needs a freaking drink.

"Good morning Dean." The angel replies dead pan, a way so familiar, Dean can't help but smile. "What is it?"

"Nothing, Cas." Dean says and sets to work making himself and Sam a coffee without really realising he is. He takes a glance at the angel and sees his shoulders role uncomfortably. Dean walks towards him, ignoring the coffee and sits on the table. "Is your back OK?" He asks. Castiel shrugs.

"I haven't used my wings in a while." The angel confesses, looking uneasy. Dean blinks a moment and then walks to the back of Castiel's chair. He places his two hands on the angel's back and presses them into the muscle. He immediately feels something other than muscle and bone, something more like cartilage, and it feels tense and old. Whenever the base of his palm passes over it, Castiel lets out a shiver. He moves his shoulders a little, so he's even more hunched over and Dean uses his thumbs then to rub around the raised area. He can feel the tension leaking out of Castiel's back, and the angel sighs, a soft sound, calming and warming.

"Better?" He asks, his voice husky. _I just need a drink_ he tells himself.

"Yes." The angel says, voice gravely. "Better." But Dean doesn't stop just yet. He moves his fingers on top of the angel's shoulders then, and kneads into them. Castiel coughs lightly. "Thank you." He says gruffly and then Dean stops, removing his warm hands. He feels his cheeks flushing.

"Yeah, no problem." He replies and moves away, concentrating on the coffee machine as much as his scattered mind can. He can't keep his mind on the coffee though, not when Castiel's in the room. For some reason, he just need to look at his blue eyes and when he glanced back, there they were, boring into his mind, seeing things that Dean never could.

He turns away and clears his throat, but the thing that was once again lodged in his throat didn't go away.

He poured the coffee and made it just as he liked it; a bit of milk and a crap tonne of sugar. He mixed and swallowed it quickly. Then he made another for Sam and walked out the room. A feeling passes over him as his bare feet walked along the cold floor, towards his brother. Like he's leaving something behind, like a part of him's gone.

But all that's forgotten when he sees his brother. He's sitting on a chair, the broom leaning against his thigh. He's snoring like a freaking elephant, but at least he's asleep. Dean allows himself a soft chuckle before he moves as quietly as he can to pick up the stick and move it away, putting the coffee on a small table.

Sam moves again and Dean kind of thanks him for picking the largest chair there. He brings his leg up to his face and crawls into a foetal position. Dean thinks to put his thumb in his mouth, but worry took that thought away.

"Is he asleep?" Castiel asks quietly. Dean looks over and nods slightly.

"Like a hippo." He replies. When Castiel still looks confused Dean rolls his eyes and nods. "Yeah, he's asleep."

"Maybe I should take him upstairs." Castiel offers and Dean's about to tell him that Sam's way too heavy, but then he remembers he's an angel and laughs to himself.

"Yeah, it'd be more comfortable." Dean sighed out. Castiel moved slowly and lifted Sam up with great care. It was hilarious to look at, Sam being lifted like a little baby. Six foot five Sam. Being picked up by an angel.

Dean had to stop himself from laughing. As soon as Sam was in Castiel's arms, the angel vanished. A second later, he returned - minus Sam - and smiled weakly.

"Thanks, Cas."

"It was not a problem, Dean." The angel replies. He takes the broom then and begins sweeping the floor, crumbs collecting in a pile until he opens the door and brushes them away from him. Dean looks away because he's not looking at the way Castiel's arms move and the way there's now a constant, ghostly smile on Castiel's lips. And he's definitely not looking at Castiel's lips.

He looks at his watch. 10:34. It's a Sunday and he groans internally. He'll have to wake Sam up again.

Once every week, Dean drives Sam to the hospital. Gabriel's offered numerous times to take him there, but Sam said he wanted to drive, it felt more like a visit rather than just dropping him in. He prefers the work needed to get to her. Dean doesn't understand it, but he's never lost someone like that before.

But Sam knows he has. When Castiel died in the lake and the trenchcoat floated back up to Dean, that thing was carried everywhere with them. Sam didn't say anything about it because he knew Dean needed something of Castiel's on him. Needed some closeness. And when they had to leave Meg with Castiel... Damn, Dean's eyes made Sam's stomach churn. But Dean was adamant and Sam knew he was right. No matter how much both of them hated the idea of leaving Castiel alone with Meg, it was the best thing to do.

When Grey fell asleep and the doctors stripped her of her clothes, Sam was given them in a bag. He found a thin bracelet among the collection of fabric. He'd seen it once or twice on her left wrist and he'd worn it ever since.

Dean breathed in deeply and walked to the kitchen. There was a tower of dishes and cups to clean and he set to work quickly, pouring hot water into the sink. He was slow to start because his mind just kept thinking about something, but Dean never truly worked out what.

He hadn't felt this free in years. There wasn't the weight of a dying world on his shoulders, there was no need for him to spend every night and day awake trying to save the world. Again. No, he just spent his time trying to keep Sam sane, buy him books, force feed him. It's exhausting but welcome. It reminded him so clearly of when they were younger, Dean having to cook food, do the chores around the motel room so that they could leave at a moments notice.

He spent more time just being grateful about being _alive_. He would force Sam out the house and drive for a couple hours until they were deep inside a forest. He'd shove his brother outside and tell him to lie down on the grass and just breath, be grateful that he has someone to worry about, be grateful that he can lie down on the grass and just think about himself. They can be selfish now. Even Castiel.

Dean turns his head to the window. This one is a lot smaller than the other, but it shows the outside world just as clearly.

It's 10:56. He'll wake Sam in a few minutes.

The hospital is just like any other hospital Sam has gone into. It was cold and in a hurry, but the morning hours made it less so. Family and friends of the dying and healing were sitting patiently. Sam checked himself in, with Dean there and close behind him was Castiel.

Sam looked the most rugged, bags under his eyes, facial hair growing out into a close beard. Dean didn't look too bad, but he was obviously tired. Looking after a grieving brother and a childish angel would drain anyone. And Castiel, God bless him, was walking down with such great sadness because he wanted heal all these people but he knew that he could not. And Dean noticed this - he noticed everything nowadays - and he put a hand on his shoulder, comforting the angel. Each time he'd try to comfort Sam, it would end with ether one or both with a large bruise.

The aggression wasn't something either of the brothers were expecting, but it had become routine. Bobby's attic now had a punching bag hanging in the middle because Sam just _needed to punch something_.

"Sam, it's good to see you again." said a doctor. His name was Doctor Kevin Moore and apparently he specialised in keeping people alive whilst they were in a coma. Sam had visited enough times now for the good doctor to know his face, know who he wanted to see.

"You too Doc." Sam replied, his voice like sandpaper. The three men were getting odd looks now. Probably something to do with the fact Sam hadn't really thought about what he was wearing. He looked down then and noticed he was wearing slacks and _sandals_ as well as one of Dean's tops, reading AC/DC in thick white and red writing over a black base. He was tempted to laugh. How he ended up wearing Dean's top was beyond him.

Sam moved passed the doctor then and walked down the corridor. Dean sighed slightly and the doctor turned to him

"A lot of her injuries have gone now. No more cuts or bruises. We found another broken bone, a small splint in her right index finger, but nothing serious." He said calmly. Dean just nodded.

"When do you suspect she shall wake?" Castiel asked because Dean couldn't.

"Again, I don't know." The doctor answered honestly. The people looking at them were no longer, but they were listening intently, so his voice as low when he said, "But I don't think Sam's gonna let her go just yet."

"That's because she isn't going." Dean said forcefully though still quiet. "Grey is not gonna die."

"Dean." Castiel says and he puts a hand right where the raised scar is. Dean breaths out a heavy sigh and bites the inside of his mouth. "Thank you, doctor. We truly appreciate everything you are doing." The doctor nods and walks away. "Dean I know-"

"Sam's falling apart, OK?" Dean practically shouts turning to the angel. "This wasn't like with Jess because Jess died. Grey's still in there." He whispers harshly. Castiel sighs and squeezes Dean's shoulder even more. "And there's nothing we can do about it. Even frigging Gabriel can't do anything about it and he's an archangel."

"I know." Castiel says. His voice isn't wary and he smiles. "And Grey will be OK. I can sense it."

"I hope you're right."

"As do I." Castiel speaks. Dean swallows and turns away from Castiel's warm, blue gaze. There are two spare seats not far away from where they stand, so they take a seat. Their knees bump, but Dean's stopped caring.

They hear a flutter of wings. Castiel turns his head and smiles a little.

"Hello Inias."

"Castiel. How is she?"

"Better. What news?"

"The Heavens are in a little chaos, but Gabriel and Balthazar are doing their best to bring some order back to it. There are very few of us now, but we are beginning to see new angels everyday return to us. Those that were once fallen have been given their graces back."

"Good." Castiel nods. "This is very good.|

"Some still wish you as their leader." Inias says quietly and Dean just wants to tape his mouth together for the pain in Castiel's eyes.

"I wish never to lead Heaven again. I am an awful commander." He speaks steadily but Dean can see the way he just wants to run away. So he puts a hand on Castiel's shoulder and his fingers ghost over his collar bone. Dean suddenly remembers about Castiel's wings and moves his hand down and rubs gently against his back.

Dean turns his head, but Inias is gone.

"At least they're sorting everything out." Dean comments and Castiel just nods.

"It is a small consolation."

The glass doors slide open. She's still there, of course, the bed raised to look like she might just be relaxing. Her hands are crossed over each other. There are not a lot of wires or tubes attached to her, unlike Dean those many years ago. Just the few needed to record her vitals. She can breath on her own and she even makes restless noises, but she doesn't wake up. She never wakes up.

Next to her are a few people. Sam remembers them as Grey's family. They aren't poor anymore, but they look just as messed up as Sam does. Except the stupid clothes of course.

A young girl raises her head and smiles at Sam. He nods back and walks through.

"Hi Alexis." He says, not even bothering to try and sound cheerful.

"Sam." She says in reply. Everyone looks up then and Grey's mom doesn't try to hide the tears. She gets up and walks over to Sam and hugs his neck just like Grey used to.

"Oh, my dear boy." She sighs and holds his face in her hands. "You should look after yourself more." It's that same accent that Grey has, wonderfully English and slow. She's also much smaller than Sam, her head coming up to just under his shoulder.

"I haven't had much motivation." He tells her.

"Is your brother OK?"

"Yeah... Dean's looking after me as well as he can." Sam replies. Grey's mom - her name is Joan - used to hate Sam because he didn't look after Grey like he should have. But after a conversation with Dean, her eyes softened around him. Now it's like Sam's become a part of their family.

Joan moves Sam to the chair she was sitting on, the one closest to Grey. Sam puts his head in the pillow right next to her. She makes a microscopic sound and the corners of her mouth lift up ever so slightly.

"It's the oddest case I've ever come across." Doctor Moore says from the door. "She reacts to stimuli but she just doesn't wake up. It's almost miraculous." Sam scoffs lightly at the words.

"Don't you believe in miracles?" Grey's dad - Malcolm - asks. Sam looks up and there's a sorry look in his eyes, like he wants to tell them something, but can't.

"I used to." He says finally before resting his head on the pillow again. He closes his eyes and he's asleep in an instant.

Grey's parents and Alexis all smile sadly down at the pair before moving out of the door. Joan take a quick look back and watches as Sam puts an arm around Grey's body, thick muscles protecting her.

Dean and Castiel see the three familiar people walk towards them then, and Dean stands to greet them as politely as he can.

"Mrs. Greethar." He says to Joan and he flicks a smile at them. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, thank you." She says. Alexis has noticed Castiel, sitting quietly down, his blue eyes looking at Dean. He turns them towards the red head and he stares at her a moment before looking away, down at his hands which are clasped together. "You're looking after your brother well?"

"As well as he lets me." Dean answers. "Which isn't very much. I make him food but he barely eats any of it."

"He's going through a lot." Joan answers, looking at her husband who nods.

"Do you believe in God, Dean?" Malcolm asks. Castiel picks his head up again. Dean takes in a deep breath.

"I don't believe in God." He answers with a shake. "I never have. I can't believe in something that's let so much shit happen." Malcolm nods and looks away. His eyes are sunken in and he stares at Castiel a moment.

"Who's your friend?" Alexis asks, referring to Castiel. Dean turns around and Castiel stands.

"Castiel. He's helped me through a lot throughout the years. Kind of like my guardian angel." And it's hard for Castiel not to laugh.

"That's an unusual name." Malcolm says. "Do you believe?"

"I have for all of my life." Castiel answers with a smile and there's a twinkle in his eye that Malcolm and Joan find oddly comforting. Dean just knows that it's Castiel's grace sparkling, the way it does in the times he talks about his Father.

Dean sees that Castiel's shifting oddly again, his back painfully straight. The angel breaths in deeply in obvious discomfort. The human puts a hand on his back, presses it against where he knows the tension lies; it's gentle and soothes the angel.

They say good bye to the others as they walk out the hospital, wishing each other well. Dean and Castiel sit back down and the human puts his head against the wall. With his eyes closed, his breathing becomes more steady. He's not sleeping, Castiel knows, just revelling in the fact that they're all OK, that there isn't anything big and bad out to end the world. Seeing Dean so at peace makes a part of the angel's grace tighten, his vessel's heart quicken slightly.

"Sammy's asleep, isn't he?" Dean asks, breaking Castiel's thoughts.

"I can check, if you'd like." Castiel states, but he doesn't want to go because he's never seen his friend so untroubled. Like the calm after a storm.

"Nah. He'll come out when he's ready." Dean says. He opens his eyes, the worry evident in them. His stomach growls and he smirks. "God, you're a noisy bitch." he mumbles.

"Have you not eaten today?" Castiel asks.

"I'll live." Dean says.

"_Dean_." Castiel says.

"Fine, fine, stop your fussing." Dean grumbles out, but there's a playful smile on his lips. "Can I get you anything?" He asks as he stands.

"I don't eat, Dean."

"Yeah, but, food is one of the best things about being alive." Dean states. "I'm buying _you_ a burger."

"I don't-"

"Your vessel is craving it."

"_Craved_, Dean. Please-" But Dean has already gone. Castiel rolls his eyes and his head hits the wall. He does admit, though, he did enjoy the taste of the burgers he ate lo those many years ago, back when he was 'sane'. Back when the world was ending for the first time.

He let out a long breath, the tension draining out of him. He was millions of years old, yet it had been the past four that had changed him so completely. He'd seen the rise and fall of the dinosaurs, saw the first fish walk upon the land, the collapse of great civilisations. Castiel had flown across the world so many times, looking down on his Father's creations in awe.

Now he's sitting in a hospital waiting to be fed a cheese burger by the man he saved from Hell. He chuckled at that. _Maybe my Father does have a sense of humour_.

Castiel's head sinks and he brings up his hands, fingers wrapped around each other in a tight clasp. _Father, I know You do not want to listen to me, that You gave up upon this world years ago, but please, I beg You to listen. Grey, the prophet, is asleep, not waking from saving me and Dean Winchester. I don't even know if You know whom I'm referring to and that makes me sad, because he's the finest of all the humans You have created. Better than the angels by far. Grey saved him and I and I cannot merely sit here and know I can do nothing. _

_ So I beg you, my Father, to wake her, let her live a long life. She deserves to live more than me. Amen._

"Dude, you OK?" Dean asks as he approaches. He's holding a brown paper bag and he's just putting back his wallet into his jean's back pocket. He looks concerned so Castiel just smiles. The look vanishes and Dean's left content as he sits. After rummaging through the bag, he takes out a burger and grins as Castiel - rolling his eye before hand - takes it and opens the paper carefully. He takes a bite and swallows. "Well?"

"It is a fresh burger, but the cows used to make it were not happy. In fact, I shall not eat this burger."

"Aw, come on man, I paid good money for this piece of crap." Dean complained.

"Dean, do you really want me to... What." Castiel said, staring at the burger.

"Huh?"

"Dean, there's Enochian on the wrapping."

"What?"

"There is Enochian on the wrapping paper of this burger."


	2. Given from his Aunt

Sam had decided long ago to not let anything surprise him. Being in shock might open him up to something nasty, but also because it seems that he can't be surprised anymore. There is nothing he could think of that would beat the bewilderment when he was brought back to life several times, when he found out he could see the future, when he was Lucifer's vessel, when he was in the Cage and when his friend became God for a few weeks.

Right now though, he can't help but stare open mouthed at his brother and his friend because what they've just told him is impossible.

"Enochian on a cheeseburger wrapper? You're joking."

"Do we look like we're joking." Dean says in response, though he hardly believes it himself. He and Castiel stand close to each other, Dean slightly behind the angel. Sam looks between them, confusion flashing through his eyes.

"It's showing me a ritual." Castiel says, answering to the look.

"What does it do?" Sam asks after a minute. Dean shrugs and Castiel looks almost wistful.

"I prayed to my Father to help Grey. I told Him she deserved saving. Then I'm holding a spell, everything listed in Enochian." Castiel just shrugs. "Kind of... brilliant actually." And then there's a goofy smile that Dean has to look away fro because there's a sudden feeling in his gut, one that he doesn't really understand.

"Yeah, right, but.." Sam hesitates. "What does it _actually_ do though?"

"I have no idea." Castiel answers. "All I know is that this has something to do with Grey."

"What, 'cause you called Dad?" Dean mocks, eyes still towards his feet.

"No, Dean." Castiel replies, own eyes staring at Dean intently, uncaring about the harsh words. Sam idly thinks it's because he's used to it by now, and how much of a Cas thing that is. "Because it is informing me to use the blood of a shaded prophet."

"Grey." Sam says and lets out a minor laugh. "Shaded prophet." He nods a little. "Right, so we need to get a load of stuff and then we've got a ritual that might wake Grey up?"

"I believe so. Or it might summon an entity that will aid us in waking Grey. Most of what we need we already have, thanks to Bobby's vast collection. The things we do not have, I can collect." Castiel smiles and something twinges at Dean's chest again. His smile is a common occurrence now, the small flash of teeth behind raised lips an everyday thing. But Dean is happy to see those smiles and so his own mouth curls at the corners.

Sam walks over to Castiel and hugs the angel tightly. Though taken aback, Castiel puts a hand on Sam's back and gives a small tap.

"Thank you." Sam says.

"It was no-"

"Seriously Castiel." He says. "Thank you. For everything." Sam pulls himself away and grips onto the angel's shoulders "You know, you're exactly what I wanted angels to be like."

Castiel doesn't say anything but he feels his cheeks heating up. He nods a little and looks to Dean. The hunter just blinks once, licks his lips and turns away. _Your eyes_ Castiel thinks a moment, _they remind me of a warm summer_. Dean looks at him again and there they are, sparkling and Castiel wonders why he has a need to reach out and hold onto Dean's shoulder. He does and it's right where the raised scar would still be if he hadn't taken it away. His lost mark on Dean's skin.

The pressure of Castiel's hand makes Dean's heart skip a beat and he tries to cough it away. He looks up and is relieved to see Sam sitting next to Grey and looking only at her, putting back a stray piece of hair behind her ear. Dean looks to Castiel again and they stare at each other for a moment before Dean walks away. He can feel the angel's blue eyes on his back, but he isn't unnerved by it. In fact, it's almost comforting.

"Come on Sammy. The best we can do for her now is perform this freaking ritual."

"Yeah. Yeah. Hey, Grey, we've got a lead. You're gonna wake up, I promise." Sam whispers into her ear, barely loud enough for Dean to hear. But hear he does and he feels as though he's intruding on something personal so backs away. Sam kisses her cheek and squeezes her hand.

* * *

They wait outside Bobby's house for a while as Castiel collects the ingredients. Sam thinks Castiel might've been caught by something nasty after the fifth minute without him, but Dean isn't worried in the slightest.

"Probably gone berry picking." He says with affection he will forever deny.

"Or he's going to that monkey asylum." Sam chuckles, glancing a humorous look at his brother.

"We don't need another one of them." Dean laughs. "I still stink of monkey crap."

"No, that's how you normally smell."

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

A flutter of wings later, they see Castiel holding two woven bags. On seemed to be full of smaller, plastic bags, probably filled with everything needed for the ritual. The other was over flowing with seeds. The angel smiles and puts down the seed bag near the front door.

"I believe we can restore Bobby's back garden. Make it full of life." He says cheerfully. "Of course, we can do that after we work out whether or not this is a good idea."

"When has anything we've done been a good idea?"

"Hmm. You might have a point there." Castiel says. He begins removing the various dirts, vegetation and phials - two of which are empty, one filled with blood. He hands Dean and Sam a phial each. "I'm afraid this ritual requires the blood of you both."

"How d'you know that?" Dean asks immediately. He was in no mood to bleed needlessly.

"Because it asks for the blood of a demon's lover," Castiel points to Sam, "and the blood of the Righteous Man and we all know who that is." His finger whips to Dean. "Our favourite vessel of Michael."

"It's still not funny, Cas." Dean says gruffly. Castiel looks down at his feet.

"I apologise." The angel says as he continues to unpack the bag. "You will need to fill up to half way. The phial. Your blood." No movement. "Preferably now."

* * *

Rain began falling. Slowly at first, but then a full storm hit them, the wind gushing wildly. The clouds darkened and Dean looked between Castiel and Sam, expecting them to say something. Neither did.

"Well?" Dean shouts because the wind makes it impossible to hear.

"I-" Castiel began but stopped at a huge bolt of lightning stuck mere feet away from the three of them. Then the clouds parted and there stood a woman in a midnight blue cloak.

She held a large sceptre, though Castiel knew it was for no true purpose. It was beautiful to look at, the entwining golden metal ending to show a thick cut diamond. No one could see her face under her hood, but the angel felt a sudden tug on his grace and knelt to his knees before he could think twice about it. To his left, Dean copied him and Sam followed.

There was a silence then, one so thick it could have been cut. When it was, the voice was warm and so so old.

"What reason do you summon me?" The figure asks. She lifts her head and pulls down the hood. Her face is so young she barely looks twenty but the three before her had been around long enough to know that a young face means nothing of age. Oddly, she smiles at them. "You may stand." And with her words, the tug is gone and they all get to their feet. Sam and Dean tower over her, Castiel only a little taller, but the angel knows her power and bows his head.

"Thank you for answering our call." He says.

"It was no bother." She answers and tilts her head. "Oh, my dear, what has my Brother done?" Her voice is concerned, but Castiel has no time to reply. "Aren't you something." And her footsteps move towards Sam. Castiel suddenly has a need to step in her way and he does so instinctively. "Calm." Is all she says before putting a hand on his shoulder. A warmth overcomes him and he starts laughing for no reason.

"Cas?"

"Yes, Dean?"

"Are you OK?"

"Don't worry, Righteous Man, your angel is fine." She replies for him. "Now, what shall you call me? Saphora, I think. Yes, I like that name." And then her eyes turn to Dean and his breathing stops a moment. They are colourless, but not like Lilith's eyes were. They were not blank, but swimming with something, something strong and kind and Dean just stares at her a moment longer trying to work out what she is. Because she might look human, but that's just another rule of hunting. _Just 'cause it looks human, doesn't mean it is._

"Can you help Grey?" Sam speaks because no one else can. Castiel is still grinning and Dean still staring. She turns her head towards the tall boy.

"Yes, I can help your love." Saphora says. She walks towards Sam and places a hand on his chest. He takes in a breath at the touch because a weight has suddenly settled on his heart. "Why does my Brother taunt you so? You are too kind a soul to have been Lucifer's vessel." She scoffs and moves her hand away. Sam can suddenly breath steadily. "Oh, my Brother, what a fool He is."

"Your brother?" Dean says with a cracking voice.

"You call Him God, angels call Him Father, I call Him my Brother."

"Wait." Sam says. "You're God's sister?"

"That is what I was suggesting at." She takes a step back and looks between the three beings. "When I find Him, I shall ask Him to right the wrongs He did to you three. It is unfair that three of the most gentle beings I have ever seen to have gone through so much turmoil." She sighs and it isn't in the way most powerful beings do. While they look on Team Free Will with cold scorn, Saphora genuinely sees them as heroes, as something more than a little soul or grace with legs. And there's an odd warmth from that knowledge that neither of them can escape. So an odd thought passing through their minds. Maybe there is something that gives a crap.

They all walk inside, Sam leading the way. She stands until Dean asks her to take a seat and says yes to a drink of beer. They all sit and the TV turns on, seemingly flicking through the channels by itself until it lands on the news. It was a bulletin about some suicidal British detective or something. They only really pay attention when Saphora comments on it.

"What a shame." She says blankly. "Poor Watson; he shall be so very lonely."

"Who?" Dean inquires.

"Oh, don't worry, you don't know him yet." She shrugs off. "Sam, I'd like to here about Grey."

"What-what about her?" Sam jumps. He's leaning forward, getting closer to Saphora. Maybe he has to prove to her that Grey is worth saving, maybe she has to fill a quota or something.

"Why you love her, of course." Saphora answers, taking him aback. "I get so tired of demons and monsters talking, whispering to me, it would be quite nice to hear a tale of joy. That is, of course, only if you are comfortable. I wish you not to be troubled."

"I... I guess I love her because she's _her_. I don't know really why, but she's just so... I mean, I guess I like the way she spoke, the way she was so comfortable, the fact that she knew everything about me, the good and the bad, and still cared for me because of it."

"Hmm." Saphora says with a smile. "That is enough, I can tell you truly do not understand it yet. But, as is with everything, the truth resists simplicity. Though, I must say, it is such a Winchester trait, to fall for a Heavenly being with blue eyes, don't you think?" Saphora asks. Dean suddenly sits up straight and glares at her a little but doesn't say anything of course. _Now a freaking God's saying we're in love? This is getting fucking-_ "I'm not a God Dean." Saphora says calmly. "I am the Earth you walk on."

"Mother Nature." Castiel responds. Dean looks over and there's a spark in his eye that he'd only seen once before. Dean realises with a start that it is awe, that it's a look Castiel once gave him.

_ Dean was lying on a motel bed, trying to sleep but not being able to. Hell was still too fresh in his mind. He heard a flutter of wings and opened one eyes to see Castiel sitting on the end of his bed. _

_ "Oh, hey Cas. What's up?"_

_ "Nothing Dean." The angel says and then turns his head. The human stared endlessly into his blue eyes, ice like yet so warming. "You know, Dean, there are few beings on this planet that are willing to do what you and your brother do on a daily basis and even less to stand up to the arch-angels." Castiel takes in a breath and Dean sees the spark of awe and suddenly feels so small. "I never would have thought I would meet a person like you." _

_ Dean swallows hard. "My... my mom told me, before I went to sleep, that angels were watching over me." He says. "I just... I never believed it. I never wanted to believe it because that would mean that God's..." He stops again and stares at the motel wall. "It would mean that God was real. And I just can't think why something or someone would let such bad crap shit on their world._

_ "I guess what I mean... I mean that I never thought I'd be happy to meet an angel. But I was glad, and am glad, I met you." _

Suffice to say, Dean felt his territory was being stepped on. He didn't know why and stomped on it as soon as he realised it, denying it with great force. Saphora grinned at him with a knowing smile and looked away.

"So, Grey?" Sam asked, breaking the silence again.

"Of course." Saphora says, reaching into her pocket and bringing out a necklace and a bracelet. With a jolt of memory, everyone recognises it as Dean's old necklace, the one he threw away. "But, I first need you to have this Dean." It was glowing slightly as Saphora held it, but as soon as it was in Dean's palm the metal went cold.

"Thank you." Dean says, staring at the necklace in his hands.

"Do not thank me. Your angel wished it back for you."

"My angel-"

Saphora interrupts with a laugh and it makes their bones rumble. "Now, to Grey." She hands Sam the bracelet. It's gold with a single gem in the middle. But no one has seen this gem before. It changes colour as Saphora passes the bangle to Sam. "The stone will turn the colour of your thoughts." She says. It turns a bright white, a blinding glow that makes Sam blink.

"What does it do?"

"It allows others to see your thoughts, Sam. It means you can find out what Grey is thinking. How else to wake someone than to ask them yourself?" Saphora holds out her hands and Sam gives it back. She stands and gives the golden beacon - the stone is now green - to Dean. It automatically turns an icy blue, speckles of dark within. Behind it all is a pulsing energy. Dean looks up expectedly, but Saphora merely reached out for Castiel's hand and puts it on the bracelet.

The stone turns an ocean colour and Dean swears he can see small black and white fish swimming inside. But then he finds that his heart is aching, his lips tingling, and there's a feeling in his gut that washes over him that he doesn't get. He sees Castiel's eyes dilate and he sees things he never really saw before, the way Castiel is looking at him, the way his lips are more pouted, the way Castiel's hair is sticking up at odd places.

The feeling goes as Saphora takes it away, returning the stone to a calm green.

"It reveals what the mind wants, needs or both. If used properly, it can save cities, and has done in the past. But, of course, when someone uses it wrongly, when someone uses it to look too closely, it can lead to battles beyond your imagination." Her voice is calm, but it wavers at the end. "So, I ask you to return it to me when she is awake."

"How will this help?"

"_A shaded prophet will suddenly gleam as she wakes from a dreamers sanctuary._ Understand?"

"Uh..." Sam said and looked to Dean and Castiel for help. Saphora laughed.

"Oh, Sam, aren't you so dear." Then she put her arms around his neck and hugged him. Sam put his own arms around her waist and was a little surprised to feel branch like tubes running down her sides.

"Thank you." He says.

"It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance." Saphora says. She walks over to Dean and hugs him too, the gesture odd but not unwelcome. Castiel was a bit flustered, wrapping his arms around Saphora's waist and feeling the same tendrils under her skin.

"You are made of the Earth." He comments.

"And you are made of the stars." She replies. "These may not be correct interpretations of what we truly are, angel, but there is one thing we are for certain. We are alive, Castiel. We are alive in a universe full of possibilities." Saphora sighs and looks over to Dean. "I wish I had a person to care for. But, I guess, I have my world." She takes out three more necklaces and gives them all to Castiel. "If you - any of you - need me for anything, call me using these."

"Saphora?" Dean asks suddenly, making her head turn. "What did-"

"Dean Winchester." She says firmly, as though speaking to her son. "I wonder how many seconds you will waste?"

There is a rumble and where Saphora once stood a large pile of leaves lay. The stone was shining a bright white again as Sam held it and everyone just stared at each other.

"That went OK." Sam said. He began picking up the leaves as Castiel hung one of the necklaces around Sam's neck. The angel picked up a leaf and tilted his head.

"We can make tea out of this." He says.

"Knock yourself out." Sam comments, putting the vegetation in a bowl. He goes upstairs and will undoubtedly be trying to work out what the hell that bracelet was for.

Castiel walks over to Dean again and puts the leather thread around his neck. As he walks away, Dean grabs his shoulder. The angel stares at Dean then and the human suddenly feels small.

"Yes, Dean?" Castiel asks after a minute. Dean looks away again and just nods at the necklace in Castiel's hand. He takes it from the angel and it hangs on the angel's neck. The pendant is low hanging, a metal disk with a few pinpricks. "Thank you." He says. Castiel lifts it up to the light and the beams shine through, casting a constellation of light on his top.

Maybe everything will be OK.


	3. Crusts and Beaches

Dean wakes up to the smell of baking. This hasn't happened in a few long years and he finds himself a little disorientated. The smell reminds him of his mom, before everything, the fact she would bake pies nearly every day. He remembers the simple glee of smelling the mixture of pastry and filling, the way it would crumble on his fork. Dean finds his mouth watering as he sits up in his bed. The duvet falls from his upper body and he stretches his arms. He walks to the mirror and looks at his shoulder. The hand print hadn't been there for a few years but Dean still looked there and practically willed the raised skin to return.

Once, when he and Sam had decided to stop hunting with each other, Dean brought a chick to a motel. When he was topless, she put her hand right on that spot and Dean automatically moved it away. He didn't get it, as it had been instinctive, so he moved the hand to his cheek. It had bothered him a little, but the next night he remembers having a restless dream. He moved his hand to his shoulder and his heart beat slowed and his breath calmed.

Maybe because he'd dreamt of Hell and holding onto the spot where the angel rescued him was the reason he calmed down. But the last time he'd felt that safe was when he was kissed good night by his mom. It was only now that he let himself think that maybe it had something to do with Castiel.

Dean sighs and walks to the bathroom to splash some water on his face. _Get a fucking grip, Dean_ he thinks to himself. He walks downstairs and completely forgets he's just in his boxers. At the table in the kitchen, Sam is sitting and reading a book, feet up on the surface. It's such an odd sight that Dean finds himself staring. Of course, because Sam has a freaking sixth sense about these things, he looks up and stares back.

"Uh, Dean, you OK?" He asks, and Castiel turns at the noise.

"Yeah, I'm good." He says. Looking over to the counter, he sees Castiel - _wearing an apron _- looking at him. He swears the angel blushes a moment, but then his back is turned and he continues cooking some pie, because it smells like damn good pie. He'd already been bewildered twice today, so he stares at the angel's back a little too long. Sam scoffs again.

"Dean?"

"What?" Dean snaps and turns his head.

"Nothing." Sam sighs. Since their meeting with Saphora, Sam's mood has become so much better. It's been far more noticeable over the past few days. He's not spending anywhere near as much time with his nose in a book and he's actually trying to have a normal conversations with people he meets. Well, that last one confuses Dean no end because they're almost always old people and he'd come back with a stupid grin and say 'I just met a really nice guy' or 'You should listen to their stories, Dean. It's nice to hear about the people we've saved' or some hippy crap like that. But Dean's just happy to see Sam doing OK, even if it is in a very non-Winchestery kind of way.

Sam stands then and picks up a mug Dean hadn't seen, putting it by the sink. "I'm gonna go to the shops, get some stuff." He says and runs his hands through his hair because he probably hates it when it flops into his eyes. _Just cut it, for Christ's sake._ Dean always tells him but Sam just gives him a look and carries on doing whatever he was doing until Dean 'rudely' interrupted him.

"OK, see you in a few." Dean says. Sam nods and walks out the door. Dean walks towards Castiel and peers over his shoulder. "Smells good."

"Thank you." Castiel replies. "There is one in the oven, if you wish to eat now."

"Huh." Dean says. He leans down and takes out the pie. With one look, Dean puts it back in. "Needs a little longer."

"How do you know that?"

"I know my pies, Cas." Dean replies. Then he sees that Castiel isn't wearing a top and that he's just wearing sweats, the brim resting loosely on his hip bones. For some reason, Dean starts undoing the knots of the apron and he hangs it up on a hook. Castiel looks like he's about to say something but seemingly thinks better of it. "You don't need an apron Cas and you just look stupid."

"What if I'd like to wear an apron?" Castiel answers, leading Dean to laugh a little. He stands there a moment, and they stare at each other. Dean's mind flashes back to a few months previous, when they were sure they were going to die.

"I'm... Cas, I'm sorry about what I said to you. Before we killed Dick. I do care." Dean blurts out. "And you aren't broken. You're just..."

"Weirder? Insane?" Castiel finishes, not a hint of bitterness in his voice, instead sounding like he's reading off a list.

"Different. You're _different_. I dunno, maybe we need different. Hell, I'm happy for you. You've found this... _peace_ and I don't want you to lose it." Dean finishes. Castiel stares at him a moment and tilts his head sadly.

"Are you suggesting I leave?" He barely says.

"What? No!" Dean jumps because _God, no_. "No, I'm not, I'm just saying that..." Dean thinks quickly. "What do you want to do?" He says after a while. It'd been bothering him for a while, him and Castiel not doing anything at all. That's what friends were for, right? "What would _you_ like _us_ to do. Now. Today." Dean stops there because, even though he has a torrent of words on the tip of his tongue, that's all that he can say. Castiel looks at him with a slight glee before he opens the oven and takes out the pie.

"I would like for us to eat this pie and then plant the seeds I brought with me." Castiel says. He looks like he wants to say more and Dean rolls his eyes.

"Yes, we can go to the frigging zoo."

"But you don't-"

"Not about me, Cas. If you want to do it, we're gonna go do it. Deal?"

"Deal." Castiel says with a kind smile. Dean nods and climbs the stairs, saying how _fucking_ _stupid _it was of him to walk downstairs in his _fucking boxers_. So he gets changed and fixes his appearance and goes back downstairs to see Castiel wearing jeans and his favourite button down - the cream one - and Dean has to stop himself from grinning at him.

The pie is already on the table, cut so Dean has a quarter, just like he would've wanted it. And he sits and eats the pie and, damn, it's a freaking good pie. He swallows his first bite and just starts laughing to himself. _I have got to be dreaming_ he thinks to himself, the doubt of that afternoon hitting him all of a sudden. It can't be real. Sam's too happy, too calm, he hasn't been like that in weeks.

And Castiel shouldn't be that good looking in the light, shouldn't be so... He sighs to himself.

"Dean, are you OK?" Castiel asks, noticing the fact Dean had stopped eating his pie, which is unusual. "Is the pie good?" The hunter seemed to snap awake.

"Yeah, the pie's good. Pretty awesome actually." Dean says.

"Too good." Castiel finishes after a moment. He sighs. "Dean, this is real. Just because the world isn't ending for once, doesn't mean this isn't real."

"My life consists of shit things happening." Dean says. He doesn't raise his voice, but Castiel can tell the annoyance hidden deep in there. That's how I know what's real and what's not. This is way too... normal." He closes his eyes a moment and takes in a deep breath. Then he picks up his fork and continues eating his pie, not wanting to waste any of it, even if he thinks it isn't real.

Castiel stands and walks over to Dean. He puts his hands on the human's broad shoulders and presses his thumbs into the muscle on his back. Dean winces a little.

"Christ, Cas, what the Hell?"

"Sam told me how you convinced him what was real." Castiel answered firmly as he leans closer, his mouth inches away from his ear. "There is a difference. You are not dreaming, Dean. This is reality." He said and Dean noticed the slight begging tone in his words. Dean just nods. He picks up some more of his pie and holds it up to Castiel. The angel smiles and eats from the fork, hands still on Dean's shoulders. "It makes me sad that if I give you a pie, you immediately think you're dreaming."

With his grip released, Castiel roles his shoulders and stretches his back slightly.

"That your wings again?" Dean asks and laughs to himself because this isn't how normal conversations work. '_Why didn't you clean the guns!'_ or 'After_ we kill it can we go to Disney Land?!'_ or, currently,_ 'Do your wings hurt again? Maybe I can message them or something, to relieve the tension.'_

"Yes, it is." Castiel sighs. Dean puts down what was going to be his next mouthful of pie before standing and walking to behind Castiel. He puts his hands where the odd cartilage bit was and rubbed gently but firmly on the angel's back. Castiel bends down a little, his ass hitting Dean's groin slightly. "Apologies."

"No problem." Dean replies and he thanks God that Castiel can't see the blush flaming up on his cheeks. Castiel relaxes completely as Dean's hands work on the ridiculously tensed up muscle, kneading like he did only a few days previously. "Has it been bothering you much?"

"It?"

"You know; your wings. Maybe you should... fly around more often." Dean says. He'd had a similar conversation with a guy he once knew when living with Lisa. He'd been having really bad neck pains and Dean had suggested a few things because he knows about aching necks better than anyone. It had felt so damn weird back then, giving advice to neighbour, a 'friend', if you could call him that. What was weirder, Dean realised, was that it didn't feel odd when he told Castiel to 'fly around more often', massaging his back where the invisible wings connected every so slightly physically. I feels more normal to do that than to have massaged Lisa's back on those few occasions, feels more customary to stitch up cuts and treat bruises than to talk about the day's sport.

And as these thoughts seep into his mind, Castiel stands and turns around. Dean doesn't notice, so his hands rest on the angel's chest before he swipes them away.

"Sorry." He says just as quickly.

"You were thinking a lot just." Castiel mutters.

"You could say that." Dean replies.

"What about?" He asks. Dean catches his gaze and sighs.

"How weird normal life is." Dean replies. Castiel continues to stare a little, so Dean continues. "It felt weird living with Lisa and Ben. When I was raking leaves or working at the construction sight, I just kept on thinking about field stripping a gun and killing monsters. The job I had... it wasn't _my_ job; my job is hunting and I just... Peoples' normal lives are weird." Dean concludes. He'd never spoken that much before, especially on such a minor subject. Especially on a thought he'd just had.

"Well, we aren't exactly a garden-variety group of people."

"Yeah." Dean laughs. "And one of us isn't even technically a person." He says, pointing a finger at Castiel as he walks around and shoves the last piece of his pie in his mouth.

"I might as well be nowadays." Castiel says solemnly. Dean swallows and puts the plate in the sink, next to Sam's mug from earlier.

"Nah, you're too... angelic." Dean replies. "I mean, I don't know of any one with wing pains." Neither of them say anything for a moment.

"Shall we plant the seeds now?" Castiel asks.

* * *

Sometimes Sam forgets what Castiel is. Walking into the kitchen that morning was one such time; being half clothed, wearing an apron and baking a pie wasn't exactly normal, angelic behaviour. A smack in the face as it might have been, it was a nice one. Castiel, Dean and he were becoming something like a family. A messed up one with a list of regrets as long as a light year, sure, but a family none the less.

_A family_. Sam grins to himself. And when Grey's awake, it will be even more complete.

He can imagine it as he drives into town. Waking up and being able to cuddle Grey for a few minutes before going downstairs to face the day. Hopefully Dean and Castiel will've gotten over themselves by then. Maybe the brothers will meet downstairs, both with messy hair and missing their warm partners next to them. Maybe they'll look at each other and see genuine contempt in each other's eyes. And maybe they can get a house, Sam can go back to college, become a lawyer, Grey can get a good job and, _Christ_, they might even have _kids_. Dean'd be the best uncle in the God-damned universe, Sam knows.

He lets himself laugh. The lawyer part was being incredibly optimistic, but maybe, when he knows shit isn't going down, he and Grey can have kids and extend the family. They'll know about hunting, know how to protect themselves, of course, but they can do what they want. If they want to go to school, have a normal life, that'd be fine by them both. If they want to hunt, sure, _but make sure you call your mom every night so she doesn't die of a panic attack._

Once he's parked up outside the largest shop in town, Sam gets out and opens up his list of things he should get. _The usual crap, hunting stuff, baking stuff and clothes_. Sam mentally hits himself for not being more specific. But then he finds it amusing that the word 'hunting' and 'baking' were in the same line.

_The usual crap _consisted of food such as microwave meals, sauces, yoghurt (Dean still teases Sam about it) and various other things that let the two brothers live. He's in the alcohol section when he notices someone familiar next to him. He has to blink twice before believing his eyes.

"Good afternoon, Sam." Death says slowly. "Now, I wonder to whom you're going to give the beer to." His voice is as cold as Sam remembers, completely void of any affection that they'd gotten when Saphora had greeted them. He didn't really notice it as much before, but now it was like a smack to the head.

"Hi... Death." Sam replies. "Can I... Do you need anything, or?" He asks very carefully. He's fully aware about how Death really doesn't need help with anything. He could probably look at a creature and it would die. Hell, Sam's getting shivers already, the shivers you would get if you were about to die. Like that time he was shot. Or that time he was stabbed. Or that time-

"No, I do not Sam. But Saphora tells me you have a prophet, and she isn't waking up."

"Yeah." Sam says, jumping at the word. He composes himself. "Yeah, we do. Grey."

"Hmm... Now, she tells me you have a bracelet." He says, taking out a packet of biscuits he'd hidden in his coat and putting one in his mouth.

"She gave us a gold one, with a stone that changes colour in the middle."

"Ah, yes, that's one of her favourites, I hope you're looking after it." Death says deadpan. Sam swallows and rolls up his sleeve.

"I haven't taken it off since she gave it to us."

"Hmm." Death says again. "Well, she asked me to tell you that maybe the bracelet was not only intended for you." He raises his eye brows. "And before you ask, Saphora and I are both as old as each other and I am fond of her company. I will occasionally help her when she's choking on the gases you release into the atmosphere or when you dig into her skin and rip apart her once magnificent dinosaurs." Death sounds almost angry. And it'd probably be the last thing Sam would do - even if accidentally - if he doesn't do something quickly. But before he can do anything, Death's vanished from in front of him and he's left with a packet of open biscuits on the floor.

He stands for a few more seconds before snatching whatever booze happens to be in his area - it's whiskey - and walks to the freezer, picking out various meals, pizzas that he knows Dean likes way too much. He catches sight of someone by the isle that says 'baking' and he asks for some help picking out some baking materials. She's an old woman and her smile is toothless, but Sam just smiles back, a voice in the back in his head saying _you've been tortured longer than she's been alive_ but he shoves that away.

She helps him pick out the best fillings, the best cherries for the job, butter so the rust is nice and flakey. And then she starts telling him some baking tips and he can't help but listen intently, taking mental notes and thinking that Grey would probably be really good at baking.

Maurine the woman tells him is her name, and she says that it's her grandsons birthday and he's always preferred pie over cake. Sam says that's just like his older brother, Dean. Would complain about not having enough pie even if he had it all the time.

He'd been talking to a lot of people lately, for some weird reason. It's not like he's been doing it on purpose and when he first started listening to their stories, he can't help but feel good about himself for once. He helped save the world; he helped save these people whose stories will carry on for years to come.

They wished each other well and Sam left the store, two bags filled with food and alcohol, two more filled with pie-to-be.

Death's standing next to the Impala, Sam sees when he walks around the corner. He stops abruptly before nodding his head in greeting.

"Sam, look at your wrist." Death says smoothly. Sam peaks down, the bracelet hanging. But it's not white anymore. It's... darker. Greyer. Before Sam can ask about it, Death's gone again and he grunts in annoyance. If he didn't know any better, he'd call Death a prick. Not even Dean insults Death, and that's saying something. The dude insulted God a few times to say the least.

He slumps into the car and checks his phone. Dean had left a voicemail and Sam clicked it, confused on why Dean would bother.

_Hey Sammy, just saying that me and Cas're going to the... God help me, we're going to the zoo. Don't you dare say a fucking thing. Right, see you later_.

Now Sam's confusion is complete.

* * *

Dean's standing outside the lion's pen. The huge cat's been giving him an odd look for about five minutes, but that's not what he's really worried about. He's more concerned about Castiel's decision to talk to the thing. He has no idea what he's saying, speaking in Enochian or something like that. What's weirder is that the lion seems to understand, but it keeps on staring at Dean.

He's just grateful Castiel didn't do what he intended to do which was to actually go inside the pen and stroke it. _Normal cats, fine._ Dean had explained, _King of the Jungle? Yeah, no._

"Dean." Castiel says, now looking up at his human friend. Dean hums, looks down at Castiel - he's sitting down crossed legged because of course he is - and raises his eyebrows. "He likes you."

"Really?" Dean replies. "I mean, I think he'd like to eat me if that's what you mean."

"Of course not." Castiel says, sounding personally offended. "He's always wanted to be a vegetarian, it's just that his species doesn't allow it."

"Yeah, the poor thing." Dean mutters sarcastically. The lion growls and Dean puts his hands up. "Sorry, 'kay? Jesus..." Dean puts out his hand. "Can we move?" Castiel answers by taking Dean's hand and is hoisted up to his normal height. "And brush your pants down, don't want a dirt patch on your ass."

"I don't think it matters, Dean."

"Well, maybe not to you, but I'm sure some of us normal humans would like to walk around this crappy zoo without having to know what your ass looks like." Dean states quickly. Castiel just scowls, but wipes himself down anyway.

"Better?" The angel says shrugging.

"Yeah, whatever. What're we gonna see next?"

"I was thinking we could see the sea lions."

"More lions? Seriously?" Dean complains. He doesn't care, not really. This time last year, he thought Castiel was dead. He's been wanting to spend more time with his best friend for a few weeks now and is grateful that they can finally just talk without Sam's stupid looks.

"_Sea_ lions." Castiel repeats. "They look big and blubbery. Like you."

"That was un called for." Dean says, pointing. "I don't like this attitude you've got young man." He can't help a grin.

"Young man?" Castiel replies, walking forward, leaning so his mouth is by Dean's ear. "Dean, I'm a warrior of God." He whispers. Dean swallows, suddenly aware of Castiel's presence. Castiel steps back and stares at him with his huge blue eyes. Then he raises an eyebrow at Dean and clasps his shoulder. "So I'm not too fond of your tone either."

"Yeah, _but_." Dean begins. "Uh... Sea lions, right?" He flashes a smile before walking quickly in front of Castiel before the angel decides to so something stupid.

"That's the wrong way Dean." Castiel calls out after ten paces.

"Dude you could've told me that-" Dean sighs, but before he can finish his sentence Castiel has gripped his shoulder and flown them to a beach. It's freezing and Dean starts shivering immediately. It'd been kind of warm back in the zoo, but right now, he's worried his nose'd drop off. "What the fuck?!" He says, but before he says anything else, he feels warm arms wrap around his waist.

Castiel is standing to his left, resting his head on Dean's shoulder and embracing him tightly. Dean's not gonna complain though because Castiel feel so damn warm. So he reaches out his own arm and puts it around the angel's shoulder, pressing his body closer. He's not shivering anymore.

It's only then that Dean takes in the environment around him. The beach is quite small, no houses behind them, but a few in the far distance on what looks like another island. The sky is the colour of flint, the ocean slightly more green and the waves are lapping hungrily up the shore line.

"Where are we?" Dean asks after a few minutes of looking at the horizon. The sea and sky seemed to blend together, even though Dean knew that they were miles apart. They looked like one in the dark light.

"That isn't important." Castiel answers. Dean chuckles, the rising of his chest caught by Castiel. His hands are splayed on Dean's waist, protecting his body from the cold.

"Why're we here?" Dean tries, because he's not a fan of waiting for too long.

"Shh." Castiel says, raising a finger to Dean's lips. "We're waiting." The angel finishes, putting his hand on Dean's hip. It's not something Dean has encountered before. Whenever a chick hugged him, they always went for his waist and hip to wrap their arms around, heads lulling on his shoulder or chest, depends whether or not their horizontal.

But while those were just so they would both be comfortable, with Cas it felt like he was being protected. He hadn't felt cold since Castiel put his arms around him, hadn't worried at all about the fact he'd been teleported mid-sentence to where-ever-they-are. It just felt easier. And surprisingly, Dean was OK with that. The angel's presence had always been a good thing for Dean. Castiel was his one true friend, someone he would trust with his life. The betrayal he'd felt only two years ago was sickening and he didn't sleep for nights on end thinking about it. But he'd forgiven Castiel a long time ago, he just hadn't realised it until right before Purgatory. Castiel had meant, and still means, protection, safety and above all friendship. The only real friend Dean's ever had, his best friend, the angel that rescued him for Hell only four years ago.

Was it four years?

_I'm too old for this shit_.

He's about to make another attempt at asking where they are, but is cut short when suddenly fireworks burst into life. Reds and greens and blues explode across the sky, circles and rocket shooting upwards. The noise is deafening, even so far away. The colours change, purple and gold, the red fireworks having left a mist, turning the clouds a carmine colour.

Dean stares open mouthed at the spectical. He suspects that they're meant for another beach somewhere down the coast. Out of the corners of his eye, he can see people walk out of their homes, bringing chairs.

Castiel moves from his shoulder, arms dropping. Probably to get a better look, Dean suspects. Their hands bump as the fireworks shriek through the sky. The angel holds Dean's hand and suddenly Dean's warm to the bone. He lets out a soft sigh and Castiel's grip tightens.

"Thank you for coming with me, Dean." The angel says, his voice gruff and nearly lost with the explosions.

"My pleasure." The human replies. They stand there, holding each other's hand, the fireworks making them stare in awe. And they are, for once in much too long a time, happy.

Dean looks down at Castiel. He's smiling like a child, as though fireworks are the best damn things he'd ever seen in the world and Dean grins even more. His cheeks become apples, the creases around his eyes crinkling.

"My pleasure." He says again as he turns his head back. Castiel shifts closer to him and he puts his head back on Dean's shoulder. And you know what?

Dean's too happy to care.

* * *

**Thanks for reading the story so far! If you have the time, I would really appreciate a review. Many thanks! :)**


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